


The Graves

by Jeminy3



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Digital Art, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Illustrated, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeminy3/pseuds/Jeminy3
Summary: Summary: Weeks after the Promised Day, Edward buries the man who was his father and finally starts to mourn what he's lost.Set post-series finale, within the 2 years before Ed and Al traveled the world.Features: Heavy death mentions, a funeral, mourning, regrets, family flashbacks.Notes: I have a lot of feelings about Hohenheim, and even more about Edward.Read on -Tumblr: http://jeminy3.tumblr.com/post/151589763543/fma-fic-the-gravesGoogle Docs: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1STRDKBWg20JRBYNFHInFbex5qO_rjuc90F8CKLHZYH0/edit?usp=sharing





	

It was sunset. The cold winds of the coming Fall were picking up, causing a random gust to blow through Ed's hair, the chill stinging the skin of his face. He squints a little, but doesn't pay it any mind.

He watches the grass sway gently at his feet, surrounding the two graves he's standing in front of. The one on the left is engraved with the words _Trisha Elric - 1878 ~ 1904. Beloved Mother_. The grave next to it reads _Van Hohenheim - 1873 ~ 1915. Husband and Father_.

Ed sniffs. Hmph. _Father_.

* * *

 

The earth of Hohenheim's grave looks freshly tamped down. They'd just finished a funeral service for him about five minutes ago. It wasn't anything fancy, just something small and attended only by his remaining family and the few people who knew him - which was Granny Pinako, Winry, Alphonse, and Ed himself. Den was there too, of course, for emotional support.

Pinako'd said the most about him - she'd known him since she was young, after all. It was heartfelt enough, Ed supposed. Winry said what she could of her impressions of him, and Al did the same.

Ed didn't say anything. And thankfully, no one really expected him to. He'd just quietly sat in a wood-and-cloth folding chair through the whole service, fidgeting with his hands, staring up at the clouds, leaning over to scratch Den's ears with one hand when she sat next to him.

Sometimes he'd get an odd look from Al or Winry, but other than that, no one batted an eye at him the whole time. It was a relief, honestly.

He'd only left his seat when the eulogies were done with and Pinako needed help closing up the grave. That was when he caught a glimpse of the small tin container at the bottom of the hole - he wished he didn't, knowing that the handful of dust inside it was all that left of the man who sired him. It'd almost made him wish they could've buried a coffin instead... At least _that_ would've been expected.

But he hadn't let himself think about it too much, focusing on the task at hand as he shoveled and tamped down fresh dirt, packed up the folding chairs and snacks, and whatever else the others needed help with as they got ready to head back to the Rockbell house.

But somehow, Ed didn't want to leave just yet. Something prickled in the back of his mind, and the strange, cold feeling that'd been growing in the pit of his stomach was too strong to ignore now, weighing him down and anchoring him to this spot.

He'd approached Pinako and cleared his throat. "Hey. Uh, Granny?"

She turned to look at him. "Yes, Edward?"

He felt a bit awkward as he met her small, sharp eyes, but swallowed it down as best he could. "I, um... I wanna stay here a little longer."

Pinako blinked at him, mildly surprised. "...Really?"

"Yeah," Ed responded flatly. "I just uh... I wanna look at it more." He jerked his chin in the direction of Hohenheim's grave.

 Pinako just looked at him for a moment, glancing at the grave as well. Then she looked back at him, a small smile spreading across her lips. "Take as long as you need, Edward," she said softly.

"I'll stay too," the voice of Alphonse chirped from somewhere behind him, startling him a little. Ed turned around to look at his younger brother - he was smiling warmly at him, but the hint of sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. "I'll keep you company, brother," he said.

Ed frowned a little. "Oh. Okay." He'd sort of wanted to be alone, but being with Al was fine too, really.

After that, they'd said their "see you later"s to Pinako and Winry, then watched them make their way down the hill with snacks and chairs and Den in tow. They watched them walk along the dirt road all the way back to the Rockbell house, looking almost like a toy from this distance, until they disappeared into its tiny front door.

Now it was just Ed, Al, the graves, and occasionally the sound of the wind.

* * *

 

It's quiet. The air feels thick with... something.

Ed shifts on his feet, staring at the fresh etchings on Hohenheim's grave. He still can't think of anything to say - besides how full of bullshit Hohenheim's birthdate and titles were, saying he was born in Mom's generation and even _suggesting_ that he was any kind of decent husband or father.

But everyone knew that already. It was all a cover-up in case anyone tried to snoop around for the truth at some point. It was for the best, Pinako'd said.

Then Al speaks suddenly. "...Hey, y'know what's weird?"

Ed looks at him. "What?"

Al was looking down at his father's grave, leaning on his cane with one hand, a thoughtful look in his eyes, "He was the last living person from Xerxes, right? That means we're the only people in the world now that carry that bloodline. We're living evidence that that place even existed... Our children will be, too."

Ed purses his lips, thinking it over. "Huh. Yeah, that is kinda weird."

Al turns to him, half-smiling. "It's kinda cool though, huh? It's like we're walking artifacts or something."

Al's golden-blonde hair glows warmly in the fading sunlight, and his amber-colored eyes glint like jewels. Ed's own hair and eyes probably look the same right now.

"Heh. I guess so." It's all Ed can think to say. He's not really feeling up to discussing history or genetics at the moment.

Al's smile fades a little, his eyebrows furrowing. "Still mad at him, huh?"

Ed glances away from him, thinking. He's not really sure _what_ he's feeling at the moment, actually. Kind of sad, kind of angry, kind of something else, but not much of any of them? He'd felt like this all day, and for the past two weeks on and off. Ever since they got back from Central and Pinako told him that Hohenheim was gone, and that a proper funeral would be held for him.

And after everything else that'd happened on the Promised Day, he just feels sort of numb at this point. He may as well just say what's on his mind.

He looks back at Al. "Honestly? I dunno," Ed says, shrugging. "I guess _part_ of me is still mad, but the rest of me isn't so sure anymore."

Al looks at him quizzically. Ed takes a deep breath, and decides to keep talking.

"It's just that... so much happened. It's just setting in that I even _met_ him, finally. I spent so long imagining what he was like, how I was going to chew him out for what he did. I had it all planned out in my head - like I was _ready_ for him, whether he'd be an asshole, or a bastard, or just uncaring."

Ed looks back at Hohenheim's grave, frowning as images of the man flash across his mind's eye. "Then I actually met him, and he was... none of those things, actually."

He lets out long sigh. "He was just... alright, I guess. He knew what he did, but he didn't hold it against me for being angry. He knew he deserved it."

He glances back at Al for a moment, and sees him nodding solemnly in agreement.

Feeling a little reassured, Ed continues. "And he had so much going on... I hate to admit it, but I can kinda understand why he was... _like_ that. I mean, I don't even _know_ how I'd deal with suddenly being immortal and having half-a-country inside me."

Al makes a sound at that. "Mm."

"And it's finally dawning on me that I never even _knew_ him that well, even after hearing his story. I guess..." He pauses again, searching for the words.

"...I guess I'm just... not sure how to feel about him now."

"That's understandable," Al says.

"W-we never even said goodbye," Ed blurts out, choking on it a little. He hadn't really meant to say that out loud, but at this point it's like his thoughts are spilling out of him as soon as they become solid.  He clamps his mouth shut before any more can come out. His chest feels heavy now, to his irritation.

He clears his throat and looks back at Al, who was gazing at him with that sad look in his eyes again. "So uh, what about you?" Ed asks, trying to divert it.

He watches Al look back at the grave, tilt his head a little, his mouth and throat working. "I guess I'm a little more forgiving. But you had a good point there, brother. Overall, he was an alright guy."

"Hm."

"He was like any one of us, in a way - he was just doing what he thought was right. Life wasn't always fair for him, and he made big, stupid mistakes that he had to live with. But he kept moving forward. I respect him for that."

He pauses, his eyes downcast and solemn. "And I think in the end, he was a good man at his core, just kind of... lost."

"Mom must have seen that too," he adds, quietly. Ed was about to say something but the words fall away from his mouth when he hears that. He forces his mouth closed again, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat.

There's a beat of silence before Al speaks again, his voice lighter than before. "He really was a hero, though. His plan did save all of us."

He lifts his head towards the sunrise, looking almost reverent. "All that time, he had literally _all_ of Amestris in mind... It's just a shame it was at the expense of his family."

"It didn't have to be," Ed grumbles. Another thought slipping out.

Al makes a dry little laugh. "Heh. Maybe."

"That's just how these things are, isn't it?" he says, sounding almost wistful. "You always wonder how things could've been different. If Dad had stayed... If Mom hadn't died... But, we'll never know."

Al looks back at him, half-smiling again. "There's nothing we can do but just... keep moving. That's what Dad did."

Ed says nothing, not really feeling very comforted by any of Al's words, frankly, but thinking better than to comment on it. He looks at his feet, damning the weight in his chest for growing heavier in the past few seconds.

He hears the shuffling of shoes moving through grass, then feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks up to see Al standing at his side, leaning on his cane and smiling at him with those sad eyes again.

"Hey. At least the worst is over now. We get to live in the world he left behind. Without him, it probably wouldn't even be here." His voice is full of warmth and reassurance, but none of it's really doing anything for Ed right now.

Still, he forces himself to smile back at his little brother. "Yeah. Thanks, Al."

Al gives his shoulder a reassuring shake, then walks off behind him, starting down the hill. Ed doesn't budge, staring down at the pressed blades of grass left behind by Al's footsteps, crushed into the earth and trying in vain to spring back into their original shapes. He doesn't feel like walking.

Al seems to notice the lack of Ed's presence behind him. "You gonna be alright?" he calls from a few feet away.

"Yeah, just gimme a minute," Ed says, his voice sounding oddly hollow to himself.

He turns his head to see Al still smiling at him, but now there's a sense of worry in his expression that makes Ed start to regret not leaving with him. "Okay. We're all at the house, so... just come down whenever you want. Dinner should be ready soon," Al says, the undercurrent of concern obvious in his tone of voice.

Ed gives him a half-hearted wave in response, then watches Al walk down the hill and along the dirt road until he, too, disappears into the Rockbell front door.

Ed turns back to the graves, feeling another gust of wind whipping at his hair and coat. He still doesn't feel like walking.

He keeps thinking about Al's words. About making big, stupid mistakes.

In a way, making stupid mistakes ran in the family. Hohenheim took up the homonculus's deal. Mom decided to marry him. Ed and Al tried to bring her back.

One stupid little mistake, and your whole life went in the gutter. Guess that's just how the world works, sometimes.

He's also thinking about that other thing Al had said, about how things could've been different. What could have been if none of them had made any of those mistakes.

It's kind of weird to think about - since of course, if Hohenheim never made his decision Mom would never have met him, and him and Al wouldn't exist.

He wonders what that version of the world would be like, without him or his brother in it. Mom with a different man. Winry with different friends. The State and its alchemists never having their secret exposed in time to stop the events of the Promised Day, if that even still happened.

Wait... Would the State Alchemists even exist? Wasn't all their alchemy and culture based on that Father guy, who was actually the homonculus? Would _he_ even exist? Would he have made that deal with someone else instead of Hohenheim?

Ed groans and rubs at his eyes with one hand. It's hurting his head trying to think about this, so he stops.

He focuses again on the writing on the graves. Under Mom's name, mother. Under Hohenheim's, father.

He thinks about those words. Mother, and father.

Father... He turns the word over in his mind. And then it dawns on him just how _strange_ this concept is to him - a dad. A father. A male parent. The man who helped you come into existence, who helped raise you. Not just your mother, by herself.

Something aches inside him, suddenly. What was _that_ world like? Where Hohenheim had stayed and he called him 'Dad' like Al did? Did all those things that people say Dads do - scold you when you do something wrong, fix your toys when you break them, throw baseballs at you and show you how to throw them back. Teach you what's right and wrong, how to treat girls, how to stick up for yourself. Cheer you on at your games, your state tests, your wedding.

And now, even the slimmest chance of any of that happening is gone.

The weight in his chest spreads to his stomach, and he feels his throat thickening, pressure building behind his eyes.

He can't help thinking about it, really. How he could have called Hohenheim his father without hesitation. How they all could have been a normal family.

How if they were, maybe he wouldn't be so angry and bitter. Maybe he wouldn't have had to grow up so fast. Maybe he wouldn't have seen so much death and violence, or had to inflict some of that violence. Wouldn't have gone through so much bullshit that he'd have nightmares every night, even weeks later, and would probably keep having them in the years to come.

Suddenly his vision mists over. It surprises him, and when he tries to blink it away, he feels fluid oozing from the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. He wipes them away with a hand and looks at it, seeing moisture on his fingers.

Figures.

Figures that after everything was over and Hohenheim was long gone, he'd finally start crying over him. Over not knowing him better, over never saying goodbye. That's what really gets him - the bastard just _had_ to go off and die without telling him or Al. Just Mom.

...Which was probably fair, to be honest, but it still sucked. As crappy of a father as he was, the least he could have done was say goodbye to his kids, too.

But at least he died with a smile on his face, according to Pinako. At least he finally _died_ , after spending so long finding a way to do it and failing, spending so many years running to escape the inevitable, to escape dealing with outliving his family, his wife, his love. At least him and Mom were finally together again, and happy, hopefully. At the very least, Ed gave him that.

He feels more tears stream down his face. He can't really stop them, and thinking about it, since he's alone here, that's fine. If he's gonna cry and blubber like an idiot, he'll do it where no one can see him.

Well, his parents are here. Kind of. He has to admit it's a little weird, actually, treating these graves as the people they contained. Mom and Hohenheim probably weren't even here - they'd gone off into the Afterlife, or Heaven, or wherever you go when you die.

Or maybe nowhere. Maybe they were just totally gone and he really _was_ all alone here. Even if it hurts too much to think about. Even if he's just a stupid crybaby and needs to get over it.

Ed looks off into the distance, at the fading sunset. He can barely see through the tears, the sky looking warped and molten through the water in his eyes.

He needs to stop feeling sorry for himself, he realizes. Things are good now - his friends are okay, he's okay, Al got his body back, Mustang and the others are working to make Central a better place. Count your blessings and all that.

Ed sniffles, his shoulders shuddering a little. And he's also not a crybaby, despite what he's doing now. This is grief. This is normal, everyone says. God knows, Winry always chastised him for hiding his pain all the time.

Suddenly the wind picks up again and he feels a cold gust hit him squarely in the face, whistling in his ears and chilling the liquid on his cheeks, tickling his skin. The sensation is so strong, so sudden, that it launches him into a memory.

* * *

 

Ed was small, sitting on a carpeted floor. He must be not even two years old, because he can see Al's crib nearby. He's crying and sniffling because he hit the back of his head somehow, and it hurts a lot. He's upset because of the pain, but even more upset because he's crying like a stupid baby over it. He wasn't a baby, Al was.

Dad was there, crouched in front of him, hands outstretched. He was trying to take hold of his little arms, but Ed keeps fighting him off, crying out, "No! No! Leave' me 'lone!"

Dad looks pretty exasperated, trying to reason with him. "Ed- Edward. Let me see. How did you- Edward please, stop. Let me help you."

Ed shakes his head furiously at him, shaking tears everywhere. "No! Go 'way!"

It's bad enough that Dad's seeing him crying, but even worse that he's trying to help. He didn't need Dad's help, he was a big boy now. Mom said so herself.

Speaking of Mom, the noise must have alerted her, because suddenly he hears footsteps approaching, and then her voice. "Hohenheim? What's going on?"

Ed looks up and sees her head poking in through the room's doorway. Dad turns to look at her. "I don't know," he says. "I heard a loud noise and Edward started crying. When I came in he was sitting here rubbing his head, but he won't let me look at it."

Her eyes widen, and she walks in and kneels in front of him. She's wearing a thick coat and woolen hat, which she pulls off to let down her pretty brown hair. She looks right into his eyes, speaking softly. "Edward, honey, what happened? Why are you crying?"

She looks so sad and worried that Ed hates it. He scowls and looks at the floor. He didn't want Mom seeing him cry, too.

"Edward? Look at me please, dear. Mommy wants to help you. And so does Dad."

Ed hesitates, but the tenderness in Mom's voice gets the better of him. He obeys her, looking up at his parents. The sad looks in their faces makes him start tearing up again.

He dips his head, touching near the sore spot on the back of his scalp with one hand. "M-my head huwts." he says, mewling pitifully.

Mom frowns at him. "Oh, my poor boy. Here, let Mommy look at it."

She slips her gloved hands under his armpits, gently lifting him into her arms and standing up. She wraps her arms around him and rests his small head on her shoulder, gently rubbing his back with one hand. It feels nice...

He hears Dad get up and draw closer. "There, the back of his head, under his hair. It looks red," he says, his voice tinged with concern.

"I see it," Mom says next to his ear. "He must have fallen onto the floor from somewhere." She pulls Ed away from her shoulder to look at his face. "Edward, did you fall?"

He sniffles and nods his head slowly. She frowns at him again. "My poor baby. How did you fall? Were you climbing?"

"Mm-hm." Ed nods again, then looks around the room until he spots Al's crib. From up here he can see Al more clearly, a little gold-haired baby in a one-piece sleeper, a pacifier stuck in his mouth. He'd been sleeping before, but the noise must have woken him up because now he was squirming and kicking off his blankets. He's looking at them all with his big, round eyes, probably wondering what was going on.

Ed stretches out one arm and points a chubby finger at Al in the crib, making an "ah-fff" sound because he still couldn't get his mouth to say his baby brother's name right. His parents follow his gaze, then look at each other.

Dad looks confused. "Alphonse? Was he trying to climb on the crib?"

Mom looks deep in thought for moment, then looks back at Ed. "Were you trying to climb on Alphonse's crib, Edward?"

He's drawn back his pointing finger, putting it in his mouth instead. He nods at her again.

She smiles at him, realization dawning on her face. "Ah, I see now. You were trying to check on your little brother, weren't you?"

Ed hesitates, unsure. But actually, she's right, now that he thinks about it. The last thing he remembers before hurting his head was trying to pull his small body up along the crib's railing, wanting to get a better look at Alphonse because he'd been awfully quiet for a while. Usually he was always crying or fussing about something, like the baby he was.

Ed nods at Mom again. Her smile widened. "I knew it. You wanted to look and see if he was alright, didn't you? What a good big brother you are."

Ed took his finger out of his mouth and shook his head feverishly, tearing up again. "Nuh-uh! I cwied like a baby! I'm not a good big bro'er!"

Mom laughs a little. "Aw, Edward, don't say that. It's ok to cry, everyone does it - even big brothers."

She smiles at him, with that pretty smile that lights up her whole face. "It's good! It tells people like me and Dad that you're sad, or when something's wrong. Then we can come help you feel better."

She looks at Dad for a moment, who's smiling and nodding in agreement. She turns back to him. "And that's exactly what you did just now. I'm very proud of you, Edward."

She beams at him, then kisses Ed's tear-stained cheeks. She must have come in from the winter chill outside, because her lips are cold, and it stings and tickles his skin.

Ed squeaks and giggles in response. "Ah! You're cold, Mommy! Stop!"

She laughs at him again, her voice light and bubbly. "Oh, am I? Are you sure?" she says, pretending to be confused.

She kisses him again, on the other cheek, making him squeak and laugh more, squirming in her arms. Dad was laughing too now, his voice deep and rumbling.

* * *

 

In the present, Ed was kneeling in front of his parents' graves, hunched over and clutching his face with one hand, sobbing deeply. His tears fall soundlessly into the earth below him as the cold winds of the coming Fall whip at his face and whistle in his ears.

The cold air was tickling the wet skin on his cheeks, like kisses.

And the sound reverberating in his ears was deep and rumbling, like laughter.

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the emo. I swear, after he calms down he goes back home and has some nice hot stew and warm hugs from Al and the others and doggy kisses from Den.


End file.
